The Coincidence 07 Seth & Greyson (3 page)

BOOK: The Coincidence 07 Seth & Greyson
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Chapter 3
 

 

Greyson

 

I’ve always considered myself pretty lucky. I’ve had a good life, filled with mostly happy memories, and I have two of the most supportive parents. Still, I struggle with coming out of my shell. I’m not shy or anything, but I’m not the chattiest person, either. It makes it difficult to start freshman year at a college clear across the country from where I grew up, but after receiving a photography scholarship from the University of Wyoming, I decided to give a new location a try, embark on a new adventure.

 

After spending my first weekend cooped up in the one-bedroom apartment my parents helped me rent, I’ve started to question whether I made the right choice.

 

“You sound homesick, sweetie” my mother says over the phone. “Darn it. I’m not sure if I can think of anything you can take to cure it.”

 

I bite back a chuckle. My parents are very hippy-ish and my mother is a huge believer in herbal remedies. She’s a self-proclaimed artist/tarot card reader and my dad’s an herbalist. Their quirky, offbeat personalities have made my life interesting, to say the least.

 

“That’s okay.” I pull the tape off a box—I’m still working on unpacking. “I think I might need to cure this one all on my own.”

 

“Well, just don’t forget to smile,” she says. “A smile can fix so much.”

 

I unfold the top of the box. “I’m smiling right now. I swear.”

 

“Good. And if you need anything, you know you can call me. Day or night. I don’t want you getting lonely.”

 

“I’m fine. In fact, I’m getting ready to head off to my first class and I have a feeling I’m going to make some new friends there.”

 

“That’s so weird because I had a dream last night that you made three new friends today. One was in English class, so keep your eyes open.”

 

I shake my head as I wander back to my room to get dressed. “All right, Mom, I’ll make sure to keep a lookout.”

 

“Good. Call me tonight and let me know if I was right.”

 

“Sounds good.”

 

“And promise me you won’t go into your shell. I know you don’t mind being alone, but I don’t want you missing out on opportunities to make new friends and maybe date a little bit. You haven’t even mentioned a boy since Carter. I hope he didn’t break your heart.”

 

“He didn’t break my heart,” I assure her, which is the truth. My heart has never been broken because I’ve never been in love. When it comes to dating, I’ve been a casual fling kind of guy, something I never really thought much about until Carter broke things off because he said I was too closed off. It kind of opened my eyes to how my stoicism comes off, but breaking the habit hasn’t been easy and I’m still getting my footing. But it’s been so long since I’ve gotten any or even went out with anyone that I’m starting to get a little sexually frustrated. “And I promise I won’t go into my shell or whatever it is you called it.”

 

“Say it like you mean it,” she insists. “I want to hear the excitement in your voice.”

 

I pull open the dresser drawer and dig through my clothes for a shirt. “Okay! I promise!” I say with forced cheer as I roll my eyes. “There. Better?”

 

“Much better. I love you, sweetie.”

 

“Love you, too.”

 

I hang up and blow out a breath. While my mom has complete faith that her dream is going to come true, I’m skeptical she’s seen my future as she so often claims to do. Besides, I’m really nervous, which usually means I’ll come off awkward and unapproachable, the quiet, tortured artist who broods at the back of the class.

 

After I get dressed in a grey t-shirt and a dark pair of jeans, I slip on my black boots, grab my bag, and head out the door. The apartment I live in is a ways from the campus. I’m hoping by next semester I can find a closer place, but for now, I make do and use the five-mile walk as an excuse for exercise. On my way, I grab my camera from my bag and take snapshots of an awesome looking Victorian house and then a few streets where the blossom trees canopy over the asphalt. Back in Florida, we didn’t really have four seasons and I find it fascinating to watch the leaves falling from the trees. I walk by a few people who grab my attention, mainly because they either look intense, sad, or extremely happy, and I covertly take pictures of them as I pass. I have a thing with capturing emotion in my pictures and seek them out wherever I go.

 

By the time I reach the busy campus yard, I’ve probably taken at least a hundred pictures. Looking through the lens, I zoom around the grassy area just to the side of the university’s main building, looking for the perfect shot. Angling the camera at one of the benches where two people are sitting, I pause.

 

The guy and girl are huddled together, as if they’ve carved their own private world for each other. The guy says something, swinging his hands around animatedly, and the girl busts up laughing, throwing her head back. The guy smiles at this, seeming happy that he made his friend laugh. He jumps to his feet, grabs her arm, and spins her around and around until she almost falls down.

 

There’s such freedom in the way they talk and laugh, overwhelming happiness to the point that I actually start to feel happy just observing them. I consider going over there and introducing myself. Why the hell not? It won’t hurt anything and it’s not like I haven’t introduced myself to complete strangers before. Besides, the guy looks familiar. As they wander up the path, the guy directly faces me. I get a full view of his golden blonde hair and gorgeous brown eyes, realizing I’ve definitely seen him before. It’s the guy that was staring at me earlier this week.

 

Everything about him, from his eccentric taste in clothes, to the way he entertains his friend, to the confidence in his walk screams
Notice Me
! And fuck, do I notice him, so much that I go all stalker and snap at least twenty pictures of him. I only put the camera down when he and the girl he’s with disappear inside the main building.

 

Putting the camera back into my bag, I hurry off to English class. As I sit down in a desk toward the back of the room, I try not to think about what my mother said this morning, but I find myself assessing each person as they enter.

 

It’s not until the object of my stalking walks through the doorway that I consider maybe my crazy mother was right. I quickly realize how insane that would make me for believing her and force myself to stop thinking like my mother. I’ve always been more levelheaded than both my parents, and I want to hold onto the trait.

 

Tearing my attention away from him, I lean over to grab my textbook and a pen out of my bag. When I sit up, I’m surprised to find he’s taken the desk right next to mine.

 

Up close, he’s even better looking, but there’s a hint of nervousness in his eyes that I didn’t notice while looking through the lens, which is kind of strange. Usually, I see more when I’m taking pictures. Or maybe he was just happier when he was around his friend.

 

“Hey,” he greets me with a slightly nervous smile.

 

“Hey.” I rack my brain for something to say that won’t make me sound awkward, but he beats me to the punch.

 

“I’m Seth,” he says, extending his hand to me.

 

“Greyson.” I take his hand, noting it shakes a little in mine. “Is this your first class?”

 

“For the fall semester, yeah.”

 

“You’re not a freshman?”

 

“No, I am,” he replies. “I just started the year this summer.”

 

I smile, and decide to flirt a little, see where it goes. “So you should be a pro at classes by now.”

 

“You would think so,” he muses. “But I’m not a fan of school and being a fantastic student is at the bottom of my list, right between getting a good night’s rest and becoming friends with my slobbish roommate.”

 

“You live in the dorm?” I ask and he nods. “I actually thought about doing that, but my parents insisted I need a place of my own. That it’s good for my aura.”

 

His brow cocks. “Aura?”

 

“Yeah, they’re a little crazy like that, but in a good way.” I try to pick up on the vibe he’s giving. Is he just being friendly? Or is he interested in me?

 

I watch as his eyes trail down over my neck and chest, suddenly realizing that we’re still holding hands. Definitely a bit awkward, but in a good way. And that means he’s interested, right?

 

When his gaze reaches our joined hands, he startles and quickly pulls away. I catch a flash of alarm in his eyes as he scans the room before looking back at me.

 

He clears his throat. “So, you just moved here?”

 

I wonder why he’s acting so weird suddenly. Maybe I misread his interest. Doubtful, though, so what is it? “Yeah, from Florida.”

 

His eyes snap wide. “Holy shit. How the hell did you end up going from the sunshine state to cowboy central?”

 

“Is Wyoming cowboy central? I thought that was Texas?”

 

“Clearly, you haven’t been around when the fair rolls in. It’s like rodeo central. Nothing but cowboy hats, boots, and ridiculously tight pants as far as the eye can see.”

 

“Sounds… interesting, I guess.”

 

“Try horrifying. Some of the stuff I’ve seen through those tight jeans,” he shudders, “still haunts my nightmares.”

 

I laugh at him and he grins, obviously pleased with himself. Like how he was with the girl earlier, he seems to enjoy making people laugh.

 

I consider what my mom said about finding friends and going out on dates. He’s hot, nice, and funny. As long as I can keep the conversation going and find the right moment, I might ask him out. Get myself out of the damn rut I’ve been in.

 

“So, I was thinking…” I trail off as a larger guy wearing a jersey sits down in the desk in front of me and Seth swiftly turns away from the conversation.

 

He focuses on getting a pen and a book from his bag, then spends the next two minutes staring at his arm with his back angled towards me.

 

I spend the rest of class taking notes and mentally replaying my conversation with Seth, wondering what I said that scared him off. When class ends, he hurries out the door so quickly you’d think the room was on fire.

 

I try my best to stop stressing about what went wrong with Seth and focus on school and meeting new people. I have one of two photography classes today and end up chatting with Jenna and Ari, a quirky couple who share my same passion for photos. Jenna kind of reminds me of my mom in the sense that she seems to teeter between reality and dreamland.

 

“Oh, my God,” she says as the three of us walk out of class together. “You know what this means right?”

 

I exchange a look with Ari, who shrugs.

 

“We don’t know what on earth your excitement could possibly mean,” he says, draping an arm around Jenna’s shoulder. “But please, do tell because we’re dying to know.”

 

Her eyes light up with excitement as she tucks a stand of purple hair behind her ear. “It means that my dream came true, which means my wish of being psychic came true.”

 

“Dream?” I ask, intrigued. “Do tell me about this dream.”

 

“It was about meeting you,” she explains as we slowly move down the crammed hallway. “Before we started school here, I had a dream that we were going to meet someone who would become our friend.”

 

“Jenna wants to be a psychic,” Ari explains as he steers her toward the doors. “It’s all she’s talked about since she was twelve.”

 

“You sound like my mother,” I tell her as we push through the doors and step outside. “She’s really into that stuff. And tarot cards.”

 

“Oh, I love tarot cards,” Jenna beams and Ari laughs, shaking his head. Clearly, he’s heard this speech before. “You know what we should do tonight?”

 

“Study?” Ari suggests hopefully.

 

Jenna shakes her head and slams to a grinding halt right in the middle of a mob of students. “We should go downtown and check out Madame Sarine’s Tarot Shop.”

 

Ari scrunches his nose. “Do we have to? I’m kind of tired of getting my cards read.”

 

“That’s because you always get the death card.”

 

“Which proves just how inaccurate tarot reading is.”

 

She waves a finger and
tsks
him. “Don’t insult the cards.”

 

He tries to maintain his frown, but eventually heaves a sigh and surrenders. “Fine, I’ll go, but only if Greyson comes, too.” He looks at me pleadingly, as if he’s crossing his fingers I’ll reject the offer so he won’t have to go himself.

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